I don’t write for my personal blog that much. And that’s not because I’m lazy. The thing is, I am always writing words for somebody else’s blog/business/needs. And this is when it struck me: this is really, terribly and irremediably ironic. I write English words. I think I barely remember how to write well in my native language. I am a content writer. And that is so funny and sad at the same time. Without false hypocrisy, I know there are people out there who need my words and my way with them. Most of those people are from the USA…But in the meantime, I know they will never accept the fact that I wasn’t “born in the English language.”

I have been spending time on online freelancers’ sites, like Elance and Freelance, and ODesk and others…and the distinction that is made between native speakers and foreigners is so blatant that sometimes it hurts. Not that I would have wanted to be born in the USA and automatically become privileged…But if you come to think of it, this isn’t fair and it defies logic.

Just an example: I have been asked by a reputable online company hiring on Elance, to use my professional skills and write a post for one of their clients. I submitted the sample, they said they were “impressed” by my article and wanted to work with me, but not for the original project, for which they hired an US writer. Continue reading →

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It has been a while since a piece of cinematic work has managed to put my mind at work. In fact, of all the movies made throughout 2012, there were two that managed to keep me thinking for more than five minutes after the viewing experience has ended: “The Cloud Atlas” and “The Master”

Two is a good number, and I may say, it is more than I would have expected from a year loaded with epic Hollywood concoctions. I am grateful for that.

For me, “The Master” was not a film; it was more like a literary experience. The funniest aspect of it is that it is a work that is meta-literary at its core, it is like a coded message that holds in itself the very key (or keys) for reading it. Continue reading →

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I am sometimes much frustrated when reading reviews written by some of my fellows, some of them with more cinematic culture, others with just an audience. I am not really one with an audience, and don’t get me wrong, I don’t really want to be. Why? Because I loved Bronson.

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Here I am… Starting this and willing to have it work.
Work with me, work for me, work my way is better. I have been knocking on words’ doors for ages, and some of the things I did were appreciated as fine by others. With me, it is like they are children I have to release out there… and let live. The only thing is I am a possessive enough mom and I find it hard to let go. Hard and too much of a responsibility.
But I will survive this and try to get on with what I must do…
This morning I saw a lot of sadness in the eyes looking back at me in the mirror. And I think I know why….

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There is nothing more fascinating than a walk on the streets of the big city. Apart from the insolence of this act ( imagine walking in the 21st century, in a world where you are judged and measured by owning a car, driving it with speed and being so time-efficient), there is a bit of a semiotician’s job in it. Continue reading →